


crossing blades

by elenyagrace



Category: Cursed (TV 2020)
Genre: (a lot), (eventually) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bad Puns, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Secret Identity, Swordfighting, but at a Medieval Fair, more characters will be added as they appear in the story, title may change because it's bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:33:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28299765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elenyagrace/pseuds/elenyagrace
Summary: To celebrate the fair's 15th anniversary, Nemos' most popular swordfighting companies, the Red Paladins and the Fey Guard prepare a collaboration. The highlight? A fight between their most renowned fighters: the Green Knight and the Weeping Monk. No one knows who they are outside of their own companies. Well, the two know each other already, but they don't know that.Gawain and Lancelot are best friends who work together to teach children archery and swordfighting. Everyone else seems to think that they have a crush on each other, but that's just ridiculous, right?
Relationships: Gawain | The Green Knight & The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), Gawain | The Green Knight/The Weeping Monk | Lancelot (Cursed), others
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	crossing blades

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Chloé, I hope you can forgive the secrecy now. (Although apparently I was horribly bad at it anyways)
> 
> Quick disclaimer: I do not actually have an idea how fairs are supposed to work, this is based purely on my experience with them. Similarly, I am not an expert at swordfighting, so take all of this with a grain of salt please. This was written purely because I thought it might be fun and then it wouldn't leave my head until I wrote it.
> 
> If anyone is confused by the shift in POV: cursive is Lancelot, normal is Gawain. The rapid change in perspective doesn't last long, it's only in the beginning. (Also no, they are not fighting each other in the beginning, the fights are just happening simultaneously, I hope that's not too confusing)
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy this story!

Deep, steady breaths.

-

_Bowed heads._

-

Precise, counted steps.

-

_Calculating glances._

-

And finally, the clashing of swords.

-

_It is a dance he knows well, a practiced routine, and yet it never fails to exhilarate him. As he twirls around his opponent, he hears the audience cheering them on, and it is music to his ears._

-

It is a game he plays often, one that’s performed with practiced ease, but it always makes his heart beat out of his chest from excitement. He can hear the audience cheer while he parries his opponent’s strikes and he grins widely.

-

_He spins through the air seemingly effortlessly to dodge his opponent’s blow and there is a collective “Ooooh!” coming from the audience._

-

As his opponent’s blade cuts through the air where he had only just been, the audience lets out the breath they’ve been holding in anticipation.

-

_The time for fancy tricks now over, he quickly advances onto his opponent, carrying out blow after blow, wearing down his opponent’s defenses._

-

After a while of back and forth, he starts putting more force behind his attacks, dealing quick, successive blows, and all his opponent can do is try to parry.

-

_In one fluid movement, he knocks the blade out of his opponent’s hand and points his own blade at his opponent’s neck._

_“Do you surrender?”_

-

When his opponent seems to get too tired to properly keep up his defenses, he moves to disarm him. When his opponent’s blade flies out of his hand, he catches it in his own and points both blades at his opponent.

“Do you yield?”

-

_The compère, a middle-aged man that goes by the name of Abbott Wicklow, calls out to the audience: “And the winner of this battle is the Weeping Monk! Please give it up for our reigning champion!”_

_The audience erupts into loud cheers and he takes his bows before he leaves the fighting grounds._

-

“I present to you: the winner of this fight! Let’s hear it for our reigning champion, the Green Knight!”

The audience loudly cheers his name and he smiles while taking his bows. Gathering his things, he makes his way off the fighting grounds.

-

_He takes off his cloak, his surcoat and his doublet, stripping away the pieces that make the Weeping Monk one by one. He wipes away the dark red kohl tear marks framing his eyes, and he is no longer the Weeping Monk but rather just Lancelot._

_He dons a simple purple tunic, exchanges the swords that were forged for the Weeping Monk for ones that are not as easily recognisable and leaves the tent of his fencing company, the Red Paladins._

_Making his way throughout the fairgrounds, he takes the time to regard today’s visitors. He passes by a few merchants’ stalls, exchanging nods with a few of the vendors and waving at some of those he knows a little better._

_When he reaches the Jesters' stage, he has to weave through the spectators that stopped on the path to listen to the band playing. He glances over to the stage and can’t help but chuckle - the Mercenaries have always drawn a lot of attention._

_He thinks it’s mostly because of their lead singer, Arthur, but they definitely deserve it in his opinion. Lancelot himself genuinely enjoys their music (which he would never admit to Arthur) and he would stop to listen for a while if he didn’t have places to be._

_He passes by the rope fence that clearly marks this area as off-limits to the visitors of the fair into the main camp of the performers, musicians, vendors and other staff that are involved in the fair. There are tents littered throughout the entire grounds, but most of them sleep here._

_“Hey, Lancelot!” a familiar voice calls out._

_Lancelot turns his head to find the person who called him, and smiles when he sees Morgana waving him over to where she’s sitting on the ground in front of the tent she shares with Nimue and Celia._

_He figures he should have enough time for a quick chat with her, so he goes to join her. She grins widely when he plops down next to her and shakes her head fondly when he promptly lies down._

_He remembers that back when they first met, he used to be terrified of the woman, but now he counts her amongst his closest friends. That’s not to say that she doesn’t scare him anymore - sometimes Morgana can be downright terrifying - but now he also knows that underneath all of that, she’s a person that fiercely cares for those she considers her friends, and Lancelot is lucky enough to be among those._

_“How are you so exhausted already? It’s not even noon yet.” She pokes him in the ribs and he lazily bats her hand away._

_“Some of us have to work, you know?” Lancelot teases, and instinctively rolls out of the way when Morgana goes to hit him. While he does manage to avoid the hit to his abdomen, he doesn’t roll far enough to get out of the reach of her legs._

_He supposes he deserves the kick, but that doesn’t stop him from exclaiming: “You have mortally wounded me! I shall never recover from this!”_

_Morgana merely rolls her eyes, unimpressed. “I could cut off your head to end your suffering, if you’d like?”_

_“No thank you, noble lady,” he is quick to decline, “I fear I must be on my way now. Farewell.”_

_He gets back up and dusts off his trousers, readjusts his tunic and, with an exaggerated bow to Morgana, who only flips him off in response, starts walking towards his destination again._

_He exchanges greetings with a few other people, some of whom are only now waking up. He almost envies them, but then, there is something magical about being awake before the visitors start to arrive, about performing a fight for only a small group of people who are dedicated enough to show up in the early morning._

_Lancelot briefly considers taking the shortcut through the woods that line the other side of this area, but he decides against it so that he can say good morning to the merchants along the way. (Also possibly because he’s not too keen on catching couples in a make-out session - the woods seem to be a popular place for that.)_

_So he takes the main path instead, passing behind the main stage. He sees a few musicians who seem to have varying degrees of hangovers from the night before, and waves at them, receiving a few tired smiles in return._

_When he reaches what they call the Kids’ Corner, he weaves through the stalls selling toy weapons and armour, the game booths and the food stalls until he makes it to the archery range that doubles as a training compound for sword-fighting lessons._

_He notes that his fellow instructor isn’t there yet, so he decides to start setting up everything he can do by himself._

-

He takes off his helmet and brushes a hand through his hair to loosen it up a little. Next, he carefully dismantles his armour piece by piece and exchanges his aketon for a simple green tunic.

The Green Knight disappears and in his place stands Gawain.

He picks up his sword and exits the quarters of the company he is a part of, the Fey Guard. He hasn’t even walked ten steps when he hears someone shout his name.

When he turns around into the direction of the sound, he spots Kaze running up to him, and he stops walking for a moment so the woman can catch up to him.

“Hey, what’s up?” He hopes nothing bad has happened, but judging from Kaze’s face she seems to be stressed rather than worried, so he guesses it can’t be too bad.

“Have you seen Arthur?” She seems to be out of breath, but still manages to sound angry, a talent he will always greatly admire. “I lent him one of my spears yesterday, and the idiot hasn’t returned it, but I’m up for a fight soon.”

Kaze also fights for the Fey Guard and she is one of their greatest performers. He thinks it might be because a lot of the “fierce warrior who won’t take anyone’s shit” routine is simply Kaze herself.

“Have you tried the stages?” He suggests. “Maybe he’s performing at the moment.”

“Why didn’t I think of that?” She shakes her head and begins to walk away. “Thanks! And if you see Nimue, tell her I’m sorry, but I might have to kill her boyfriend after all!”

Gawain has to laugh at that. It’s no secret that Kaze is not overly fond of Nimue’s choice of boyfriend, but he knows she’d never actually harm him, she’s way too fond of Nimue for that. If he ever hurt Nimue though, there’s no guarantee for his safety.

He realises that he’s going to be late if he doesn’t get going again, so he starts following the path around the fairgrounds again.

For a moment, he considers walking between the tents that are scattered across the site to save some time, but decides against it because he always enjoys seeing the visitors who are walking along the paths.

When he passes the Merchants' stage that is tucked into the back corner of the fair, he does a double take - weren’t the jugglers supposed to start at eleven? Surely it can’t be that late yet?

Upon checking his watch that he keeps hidden in the pocket of his trousers (because god forbid a medieval knight is seen carrying around such devil’s machinery) he realises that it is indeed past eleven and he is definitely late already.

Gawain weighs his options and then decides to backtrack a little, joining the thankfully rather short line in front of a food stall called Bake Your Dreams Come True. Perhaps he can buy forgiveness if he comes bearing crepes.

The owner of the bakery, Pym, smiles at him when he comes up to the counter. He returns the smile and says: “Hey Pym, how are you doing? Could I have two crepes please? The usual order.”

Pym grins knowingly. “Late again, are you, Gawain?”

Smiling ruefully, he shrugs. “Perhaps. It’s not my fault this time though, I swear!”

“Is it ever?” If Pym raised her eyebrows any higher, they’d disappear from her face. She starts making the crepes he asked for. “So who is the culprit this time?”

“Well, first I couldn’t get the buckles of my armour to open and it took ages to get it off,” he explains, “and then Kaze needed my help finding Arthur so she could kill him.”

“What has he done this time, then?” She sighs fondly, all too familiar with their antics. Turning around, she folds the crepes and wraps them in paper napkins.

“Something about borrowing a spear and not returning it, I think,” he tells her, accepting the crepes as Pym hands them over. He pays and bids her goodbye before he hurries off.

He does his best not to run the rest of the way, because he knows from experience that it never goes over well when he’s holding crepes, but he does hurry to get there. Crepes or not, he’s probably in for a lecture on tardiness and responsibilities - not that it would be undeserved.

When he finally makes it into the part of the fair that is dedicated to children, Gawain slows his pace again to avoid running over any unsuspecting kids. He makes his way throughout the area, greeting his co-workers and friends as he passes by.

As he comes closer to the archery range and sword-fighting compound he works at, he can see that his fellow instructor is already surrounded by a bunch of children.

-

_Lancelot’s going to murder him. No, he really, really will this time! Okay, maybe not murder. He’s going to punch him. Or at least give him the silent treatment. Or maybe just glare at him._

_But his best friend is definitely in for a lecture once the children are gone again! First he’d appreciate it if the ass actually showed up for the lesson they’re supposed to be giving said children right now._

_He assures the kids that they will start soon, they’re just waiting for the other instructor. Lancelot makes up a story of how he is on a secret mission and must avoid detection, which is why it’s taking him so long to get here. If he doesn’t show up soon, he might have to avoid Lancelot’s detection for a while because he’s once again considering murder._

_He lets his gaze wander over his surroundings once again and finally sees the man walking up to him, smiling rather sheepishly while he waves at Lancelot with what seem to be crepes in his hands._

_He’s gotta give it to him though, he definitely knows how to appease Lancelot. He supposes that makes sense with how often he manages to be late to just about anything._

_When the other man is close enough to hear him, he tells the children: “Look, Sir Gawain has made it! He will be joining us for your lesson now.”_

_Once he’s sure the children have all turned their backs to him to get a good look at Gawain, he narrows his eyes at the man, hoping his displeasure is showing on his face._

_He seems to have made his point, because Gawain shoots him his best apologetic smile and holds up the crepes like an offering of peace. Even though Lancelot told himself he wouldn’t forgive the other so easily this time, he can already feel his resolve weaken. He can’t help but appreciate that the man always makes an effort to apologise in the form of crepes._

_Perhaps he shouldn’t consider what is basically a bribe an apology, but he can’t really help it when Gawain is looking at him with that soft smile. He’ll have to work on strengthening his resolve later, for now he just accepts the crepe that the other hands him and puts it aside so that they can begin the lesson._

_“Alright, gather around!”_

_The kids come running back to him, looking up at him expectantly. He begins by introducing them: “Welcome everyone, my name is Sir Lancelot and this here is Sir Gawain, and we will be your instructors for the next few hours. What are your names?”_

_After the children have also introduced themselves, he starts asking the routine questions to get a grasp of their skill level._

_“Have any of you ever taken a sword-fighting lesson before?”_

_A few kids raise their hands, but most of them shake their heads. This is not all too surprising because they all seem to be quite young, and this might very well be their first visit to this kind of event._

_“So what made you decide to join our lesson today?” Gawain takes over. Before the kids all start speaking at once, he adds: “Don’t worry, everyone can answer, but we’ll do it one at a time, alright? You can start.”_

_The child he points at looks a little anxious at the prospect of going first, but Gawain just smiles at her encouragingly and she seems to lose her shyness enough to say: “I want to be able to fight like Lucy Pevensie!”_

_“That’s great,” Gawain assures her, then looks at the next kid, “what about you?”_

_They hear about a couple of other characters that inspired these children to pick up sword-fighting. Some children say that their parents often take them to these fairs with them and they just love seeing the sword fights and want to learn how to do that as well. Most notable is one girl who says she wants to be a knight when she grows up._

_Gawain lets them all speak one after the other and makes sure that they know that their reasons are all valid. His patience with children never ceases to amaze Lancelot._

_It’s not like he himself isn’t good with children - he’s kind of in the wrong business for that - but Gawain treats them so kindly that no child ever needs long to warm up to him._

_Actually, it’s not just children that quickly take a liking to the other man. Lancelot can’t really think of anyone who doesn’t like Gawain, he seems to be friends with pretty much everyone five minutes after they meet. Well, that’s not entirely true, he and Arthur had a bit of a rocky start, but that was mostly due to the fact that Nimue introduced him as her boyfriend and Gawain’s older brother instinct kicked in._

_They worked it out though and actually get along with each other pretty well these days, but Lancelot doesn’t doubt that Gawain would abandon all thoughts of friendship if the man were to ever harm Nimue._

_A hand on his shoulder pulls Lancelot out of his thoughts, and he notices that the children have finished talking to Gawain. Gawain himself is looking at him with a smile and says: “I thought we’d start out by teaching them the proper way to hold a sword?”_

_Lancelot nods his agreement and turns to the children. “First, I’ll show you with my own sword, and then we’ll give you wooden swords so you can practice yourself, does that sound alright?”_

_He is met with enthusiastic agreement, so he pulls his sword out of its sheath, careful not to hold it too close to the children. They all crowd around him as he demonstrates the easiest way for them to hold a sword, mindful of the fact that their hands are a lot smaller than his._

_“Do you think you understand how to do it? If not, just say so and I’ll show you again, okay?” He looks around to see if any of the kids look particularly confused, but they all seem rather optimistic that they understand. And it’s not like they can’t just show them again if they notice anyone struggling, so he gives Gawain the green light to hand the kids the swords._

_“Okay everyone, line up to get a sword, and then you can try to replicate what Sir Lancelot just showed you,” Gawain tells the kids, who rush to be the first one to get a sword._

_One by one, they receive a wooden sword and Lancelot watches as they all very determinedly try to hold them like he showed them to. Walking around, they give a few little corrections, but generally, the kids seem to be quick learners._

-

Gawain watches with a smile as their students imitate what Lancelot showed them. They’re a very excitable bunch and they all seem genuinely eager to learn. He’s glad this is the case - sometimes, though luckily only rarely, parents sign their kids up for these classes even though the children aren’t interested in the slightest.

He glances over to where Lancelot is currently helping a young boy who is struggling a little because his hands are quite small. When the boy manages to hold the sword without dropping it, Lancelot’s face lights up with a smile that could outshine the sun.

It never fails to amaze Gawain how the usually reserved man is so open with the children they instruct. He knows that Lancelot had a rough childhood, that he has a hard time opening up to people and that too often the man puts on a mask because he believes that if people see him for who he is they will be appalled. But the kids always bring out the real Lancelot, and Gawain relishes the moments when the mask has fallen.

When they’re sure that all the children can hold their sword properly, they round them up again to teach them some basic stances. Though the swords are only wooden, they don’t want anyone to get harmed when it could easily be avoided.

So Gawain demonstrates a few defensive stances, while Lancelot explains what he’s doing to the kids. He gets asked to repeat something a few times until every child seems confident that they understand what they’re supposed to do.

“Now,” Lancelot begins, “first, we’ll go through them together, one by one. Do you remember the names of the stances we showed you?”

He receives nods all around, so he continues his explanation.

“When I say the name of a stance, move into it, and then freeze. We’ll go around and help you improve it, alright?”

Their students all nod their understanding, so they get started. When Lancelot shouts out the name of one stance or another, Gawain assumes that stance together with the children. This way, when Lancelot goes around to check on every single one of them, he can point out what they need to improve using Gawain to demonstrate.

After they have repeated all the stances a few times, Gawain says: “Now we’d like you to practice these a few times by yourselves, so you can get used to the motions. Consider it a choreography of sorts. If you need help with anything, just call for us, okay? We’ll teach you a few attacks once we’re sure that you know how to defend yourselves.”

His words are met with cheers from the kids, who suddenly seem a lot more enthusiastic about practicing the defensive stances. They spread out across the range a bit to have some more space for themselves and start going through the stances once again.

Gawain decides to seize the opportunity to actually talk to Lancelot, so he goes to join him where he’s standing, watching their students practice while he’s eating his crepe. 

“Does it taste good?” Gawain musters up as much innocence as he can manage, but the glare he receives in return tells him his effort is spectacularly unsuccessful, so he changes tactics.

“Listen, I’m really sorry. I can explain myself later if you’d like, but for now you at least deserve an apology. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“I know you’re sorry, Gawain. And I appreciate the apology, and the crepe, I do. But,” he sighs, “you still need to work on this, okay?”

Gawain nods eagerly, happy that Lancelot doesn’t seem to be all too angry with him anymore, but the man’s next word gives him pause.

“However…” Gawain tries desperately to assess the other’s tone, willing him to just spit it out, but Lancelot has always been dramatic at heart and gives Gawain plenty of time to fret before he continues. “You can make it up to me, if you still want to.”

“Of course, anything!”

“For the rest of the day, when Percival shows up, you get to deal with him.” Lancelot’s face betrays the smugness he tried to keep out of his voice, though admittedly Gawain believes he didn’t try all too hard in the first place.

Gawain should really learn to think before he promises Lancelot anything, but it would seem that his eagerness to earn the other’s forgiveness always switches off his ability to think rationally. It’s not that he doesn’t like Squirrel - in fact, he’s quite fond of him, as most people here are - but the boy can be a right pain in the ass.

Lancelot raises an eyebrow, challenging. Gawain quickly concedes, not wanting to risk anything. He can handle Squirrel if it means that Lancelot forgives him. Maybe he needs to work on his priorities, but that can wait until later.

“Think they’re ready to beat each other up?” Gawain grins, waggling his eyebrows. Lancelot sighs long-sufferingly and rolls his eyes in response.

“Do you have to say it that way?”

“Yup.” Gawain shoots Lancelot his most silly grin and succeeds in getting a laugh out of the other man, before he suggests: “Come on, let’s round them up.”

Once all the kids are surrounding them once again, Lancelot asks: “How did it go? Did you have any issues? Do you need us to explain something again? No one will think badly of you if you do, I promise.”

But it doesn’t seem as though there were issues. A few children pipe up to say it went well, and they all appear very eager to move on to the next step. Gawain can’t really blame them - while practicing by oneself is important, being able to actually fight with another person is infinitely more fun.

“Alright then,” he says, “Sir Lancelot and I will show you a few simple ways to attack and then you can partner up and try them yourselves.”

“However,” Lancelot takes over, “it is very important that you only try what we show you! If you just wildly swing your sword through the air, you could genuinely hurt somebody.”

“Is everyone clear on that?” Gawain regards them searchingly, hoping they understand that they are quite serious. They all nod their heads, so Gawain is hopeful that they will actually take the warning to heart.

He turns to face Lancelot and draws his sword. They take turns dealing blows and parrying, making sure they do it very slowly so that their students can clearly see what they are doing.

Even though they are only demonstrating the simplest of moves, there is something about facing Lancelot in a fight that exhilarates Gawain. Perhaps it is because he knows that Lancelot is a fantastic fighter and obviously holding back as much as Gawain, and there is potential there for so much more - which he knows from experience. 

Sometimes, when they need to let off a little steam, they’ll fight each other for real, though with dull blades, and Lancelot is the only person he knows who can truly match his skill. 

But perhaps there is another reason for this feeling entirely. Gawain doesn’t really have enough time to analyse it, for their little fight is over way too quickly. 

It’s a shame that they fight for different companies, really.

When they are sure that everyone has understood the instructions and feels confident enough to try for themself, they group the students into pairs and give them the greenlight to start practicing.

Soon, the area is filled with the sound of wooden swords clashing into one another and the children’s excited laughter.

-

_Lancelot fondly watches their students as they practice. There are a few mishaps, but the children involved quickly laugh it off, so he’s not too worried about them._

_He regards as Gawain walks around, offering advice here and there, making sure to reassure everyone that they’re doing amazing. As much as he wishes the man would actually arrive on time more often than once in a blue moon, he wouldn’t want to do this job with anyone but him._

_All too soon, the parents of their students start to arrive. That means their time will be up soon, so he gets everyone to gather around once more to conclude their lesson._

_“Alright, I’m afraid our lesson is almost over.” His words cause a wave of visible disappointment, so he is quick to continue. “Did you enjoy what we did though?”_

_This time, the response is very enthusiastic. Lancelot is glad they had a good time, and makes sure to tell them: “So did we! You are all amazing students. And if you’d like, and your parents allow it, you could come back for another lesson tomorrow.”_

_That seems to be enough to wipe away their disappointment entirely, and the kids are all quite cheerful as they say goodbye and leave with their parents._

_They wait until all the children are gone before they start cleaning up the space. Gawain walks around and collects all the discarded swords, then hands them to Lancelot, who puts them back in the stands where they belong._

_When they’re done cleaning up, Gawain suggests that they should go have lunch before they open the archery range and Lancelot is happy to agree._

_So they walk about the fairgrounds, making their way towards the main camp, where everyone who doesn’t want to have something from a food stall (though the food is amazing, after a while it gets a little repetitive) gets together to have lunch._

_They greet everyone they pass and join the line of people waiting in front of the buffet. Lancelot makes small talk with one of the stage technicians who works with the Mercenaries, a woman called Lily until they make it to the buffet table._

_He loads his plate and catches up to Gawain, who is heading for their usual table. They sit down, joining Nimue, Pym, and her boyfriend Dof, who are already sitting at the table._

_“Hey guys! How are you doing?” Dof asks, smiling. Lancelot doesn’t think he’s ever met someone who is as kind as Dof, except maybe for Pym. Gawain would probably disagree, he always says that Pym can be a terrible nuisance when she wants to be. Maybe Lancelot has just never given her a reason, who knows._

_“Fine, thank you,” Lancelot replies, “though it wasn’t looking so good for Gawain a few hours ago.”_

_Gawain has the decency to look sheepish, while the others just laugh. Then they’re too busy eating to continue their conversation, until an excited voice shouts: “Gawain! Lancelot!”_

_They turn around simultaneously to find Percival running up to them. Lancelot pats Gawain’s shoulder and says: “Have fun!”_

_Gawain narrows his eyes at him, but he can tell that the man isn’t actually annoyed. “Hey Squirrel, what’s up?”_

_“Have you heard yet?”_

_“Heard what? You’ll have to be a little more specific, I’m afraid.”_

_“Remember how the fair is celebrating its 15th anniversary in a few months?” The boy is grinning so hard Lancelot is a little worried for his cheeks._

_“Yeah, sure. What are the news, then?”_

_“Well, apparently, the Red Paladins and the Fey Guard have decided to host a collaboration! And the big highlight of the event is supposed to be a fight between the Green Knight and the Weeping Monk!”_

**Author's Note:**

> So, originally I just had an idea for a plot, and this was supposed to be a one shot, maybe two to three thousand words max - and then the characters and world-building got completely out of hand so now we have five thousand words already and the plot only actually begins in the last line. Whoops.
> 
> If you celebrate it, Merry Christmas! If you don't (or are just reading this at another time), I hope you'll have a great day/night!
> 
> If I can get myself to properly set it up, and start using it, you can find me on Tumblr as elenyagrace - I might post little snippets of the next chapters as I write them, and I have actually started creating a map of the fair, so if you're interested in a little visual aid, I can upload that there as well.


End file.
